


What You Do Comes Back To You

by ProwlingThunder



Series: All The Little Children [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asra is So Tired, Blood Magic, Coping Mechanisms, Grief, Lucio Is Trying Guys, M/M, Magic 101, Magic Rituals, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Side Effects, Spoilers, Tense Friendships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, magical side effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: It was the ritual,Asra thinks, remembering the night Julian had followed him back to the shop.





	What You Do Comes Back To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mandakatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandakatt/gifts).



> Prompt: Asra/Julian

_It was the ritual,_ Asra thinks, remembering the night Julian had followed him back to the shop, burst in while the room was full of smoke and incense. Drops of blood and a _failure,_ neither the first nor the last, trying to bring them back. But he _thinks_ it was the ritual, that one moment that exposed him to this, when it was Julian's blood and a twist of magic in the air. Or maybe after, any of the myriad of moments Julian had been in this shop, any time Asra had tried to pull magic from the physician's body in some form or another, or tried to chase away the grief and frustration of failure just the same.

It's easy, with Julian. Easy to pretend that the plague isn't happening right outside the door, that the lower district isn't flooding, that Lucio isn't pretending like a fool that everything is okay and Nadia isn't trapped in an endless spiral of depression and he isn't _alone._ Everything feels okay when he's with Julian, as long as Julian keeps his mouth shut. When he opens it, it usually is to sabotage himself somehow. Asra keeps having to find creative ways to close it. But he's _pretty sure_ it's the ritual that's at fault, even though _he's_ usually the one splayed on the covers. Thats... none of that's responsible. He thinks. He's pretty sure he doesn't have the organs required for it. So it must have been the ritual.

He has no idea _how,_ but knowing how is somewhat less important than the way he has to let out his clothes, or when the scent of herbs becomes too much, or he invested in a water jug purely to set beside the bed. He ate more than normal, and fewer foods were palatable. His back ached, his ankles swelled, and precious little could be done to alleviate it at all. Sometimes his skin crawled in a way that had nothing at all to do with Faust and probably everything to do with hormones. He asked the deck for illumination, and they were dubiously unhelpful but somehow _delighted,_ and it was so ridiculous he wanted to scream.

It was the ritual. It had to be. There was no way else he could _be pregnant._

 _"Incoming!"_ Faust alerted him, while he considered cleaning the counter by throwing all the contents onto the floor. He didn't, because Fuast's warning was only moments before the shop door opened and a head of blond hair entered. He tried to keep his expression light, but like the rest of his condition, his smile was subject to hormones and he desperately wanted to cry or laugh or light the man on fire instead, not necessarily in that order. Which was kind of sad; Lucio wasn't the one who had done this to him.

"Asra!"

"Lucio," he greeted. "How can I help you?"

"I haven't seen you in a few days at the palace," he began, which Asra knew was likely leading into something ridiculous and overly complicated and he didn't want to hear it right now. "I came to check in on you, see how you were doing."

"I'm fine." He really wasn't. But he definitely wasn't going to go about telling _Lucio_ that. "I'm still doing research, that's all."

"Down here?" The tone made it obvious that he didn't approve at all of the district. Asra thought that was downright ridiculous. If he didn't want to be down in Vesuvia proper, he didn't have to leave the palace. It was far easier to avoid him if he wasn't on the streets. "I gave you access to the palace resources."

"Mmhm. Sometimes I have to check my own books, Lucio. Everything isn't in your library."

"What?! Like what?"

Like his own bed, for starters. The guest rooms were nice, but Asra couldn't stand being waited on hand and foot. Sometimes he just needed his own space, and a whole lot of it. Never mind that it was a lot easier to ward the shop, with familiar magic seeped into the wood and stone, than it was to try to and ward rooms that he only held light claim to. He'd lived in this shop for years. This was where _home_ was, even if it wasn't much a home without...

"My notes. I'm not carrying my entire library all the way up to the palace, Lucio."

"I'll-- I'll have them carted for you at once!"

"And then I wont get my walk." Early on, the walk had served to give him time to think and decompress from the day, and then it had become a way to try to work off the extra weight he'd noticed he was putting on, but now...

Now it was downright frustrating, but it was part of his ritual and he needed it to maintain a good mental balance, of that he had no doubt. On days he didn't feel up to making the return, he just passed out in the guest room Lucio had given him. It was large and luxurious and _uncomfortably_ soft, the bed, but it still wasn't home.

Lucio didn't seem to know what to say about his walk, though, and he frowned instead, pacing, trying to figure out where to go from there. Asra took the moment to put away a handful of herbs he'd been mixing into a paste, hoping it would alleviate some of the swelling. It _should,_ but the number of pregnant men he had to test it on was a very small pool, and so he'd have to check it on himself in a little while--

Lucio stopped and stared at him. Advanced a few paces, his face almost uncomfortably close, and Asra resisted the urge to retreat, turn out the lantern, and hide in the upstairs. "Lucio--?"

"Who did it."

"What?"

"I can smell it. Who did this to you, Asra? Tell me and I'll make them suffer--"

"What?" Asra repeated dumbly, still stuck on _I can smell it._ Because _what?_

 _"Smell!"_ Faust agreed, tucking her nose into the crook where throat met shoulder. He could feel the tickle of her tongue against his flesh and tried not to shiver.

"Who knocked you up!?" Lucio demanded, and Asra took a half-step back in surprise, because Lucio never had actual indoor voices but he only got _angry_ when things really went bad. It wasn't something he had ever expected to hear on his behalf. He was pretty sure it was on his behalf. "I'll kill them!"

"It doesn't matter. I haven't decided if I'm going to keep it or not."

It would have been comical, the way Lucio's head snapped at those words, but it just kind of hurt. If not for a whole host of problems, maybe in some life they could have been friends. "What?"

"I said I might not keep it."

"No, I heard that. What do you _mean_ you might not keep it? Asra, you're _pregnant."_

"I can assure you that I am very well aware of this."

The Count made a frustrated sound. "You can't just decide you're _not_ going to have it. It's a _baby."_

"It's my body," Asra told him firmly, leaving no room for argument, and it was... nearly gratifying, to see his mouth open and close akin to a fish. "I haven't decided if I want it yet." Which was the crux of the matter entirely. He didn't know if he wanted a baby. Ignore _how_ he had gotten pregnant, or with whom. Having a child was a risk even for a normal, healthy woman in good times, but these were not good times. The Red Plague struck without care, taking young and old alike, and there was nothing to be done about it at this point. If he had the babe, could he manage to keep it safe until the sickness was over? Did he take the child and flee to Nopal, wait it out as long as they could? One of those wasn't really an option, of course. Leaving Vesuvia meant leaving them behind, and he couldn't abide to that again, not even for a baby. He _would_ find a way to bring them back.

"I..." Lucio looked downright torn, and it didn't feel very satisfying anymore. "I'll support your choice, no matter which one you decide, and you'll have the very best the palace can offer you either way. Let me know, okay? We're friends. Friends look out for each other."

"Alright. Lucio-- as friends? Don't tell anyone. Not even the Countess."

"What about the father?"

Yeah, no, definitely not. "Even if I decide to keep the child, _he_ wont know. Just... Lucio."

A firm nod. "You've got it. Get some rest; you look dead on your feet."

"Thanks," he managed, dry. "I feel like it."

Lucio left, and Asra waited for the other slipper to fall. For Julian to step into the shop himself, all red and black glory, sweep in like a stray cat trying to play pedigreed, and make Asra forget about his problem for a little while. But he didn't.

He didn't, and Asra wondered what it said of him that Lucio had just declared him a friend and promised him the best money could buy, while the man he was _pretty sure_ was responsible for the baby growing in his belly couldn't be bothered to show up for breakfast on time. Why Julian had even _wanted_ to meet him for breakfast was beyond him.

He waited until he was sure that Lucio was gone down the street, taking with him a handful of retainers he'd thankfully left outside the inn. It wasn't abnormal to see Lucio at the shop these days, since he'd come back from Nopal. Unfortunately the elder man was the highest authority in Vesuvia, and if he wanted to know where someone was, he had plenty of entirely non-magical ways to do so. Along with magical means. It was easier, all the way around, just to tell him where he lived, provided _under the docks_ remained a secret.

He put out the lantern and flipped the locks on the doors and tried not to cry, sinking down to sit on the floor. Lucio wasn't _wrong. Children are precious,_ the Magician had told him, but Asra couldn't see how this was supposed to _work._ He had grown up an orphan, he barely knew how parents were supposed to be; his own had been the palace magicians and _still_ he had lost them. Better people had tried and failed to cure the Red Plague, and it had already stolen one of the best magicians he had ever known. What protection could he give a child, when he couldn't even protect the people he loved?

"I don't think I want to keep you," Asra murmured to his belly, running a hand to smooth the fabric of his tunic over the swell. He didn't know much about babies, or pregnancy in general, and he definitely wasn't asking any doctor employed in the palace.

On the other hand, he didn't think he _didn't_ want to keep the babe, either.

..he needed to do more research.


End file.
